


One of These Days

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 22:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows he shouldn't just walk in on Derek. Anyway, Derek should hear him coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of These Days

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from ordinaryink WHO SHOULD DRAW IT - Teen Wolf: Derek Hale drinking a cup of coffee in just black panties. IDEC, it could be gen or a morning after with Stiles, but that imagery needs to exist. For reasons.

Stiles is pretty sure he’s not supposed to be seeing this but the bit of his brain that isn’t _drinking_ in every moment of what he’s looking at reminds him that Derek is a werewolf and was able to hear him coming. And also that Derek is a werewolf and could rip him apart with his bare hands and not have it even ruin his day. But he’d smelled the coffee as he’d come through the door and followed the sweet scent of lifeblood right here and, yup, he was here. 

Stiles pinched himself. And again. He might have let out a small whimper. Of pain. And…other stuff.

He knew Derek was built. He was a freaking work of art. Smooth skin and muscles and that little cut of hips that _maybe_ Stiles had this fantasy of slicking his dick along and painting with his come. He could see all that. He could see the faint trail of dark hair that had always been hidden by Derek’s jeans. He could see the muscles of Derek’s legs, taut. He might have known that Derek’s legs would be as gorgeous as the rest of him. And Derek’s ass… He was staring. He was unable to look away.

Derek’s ass was barely contained by some kind of black shiny material. Silk. Satin. Something sibilant and smooth and perfect. He’d imagined Derek’s ass based on scientific, objective observation of the way it sat in his jeans. It had been naked. This- Well. It was not wrong to say that this was better. Naked would be awesome too. But there was something about the way Derek’s ass looked in panties.

Derek was wearing panties.

In front of him.

And he was drinking coffee. Slowly tipping the mug up, looking out of the window overlooking the rear of the house. In panties. Black, slippery material that was definitely also not men’s underwear. There was lace edging the underwear. It was also shaped that little bit wrong, wrong enough to be cutting into the smooth skin under the curve of his ass. Derek wasn’t, like, fat or anything. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. These were just not made for him. Men. Fuck. Stiles knew he was staring and he couldn’t look away if he was paid.

Derek turned around. Derek. Turned. Around. Whatever brain cells Stiles had functioning vanished. Poof.

“Stiles.” Derek was speaking. He might have said Stiles’ name. He couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t sure he could remember his own name anymore.

If the back of the panties had been plain and black and silky and holding things just right, the front was… Stiles knew Derek wasn’t working out to compensate for anything now. And there was a little lacy panel that- And a pink bow- And-

“Stiles?” That was Derek’s voice again. Low. Dark. Honey dripping into coffee.

“Yes?” He should look up. He should. His eyes didn’t want to. They were fixed and it was glorious and if he died now he’d be regretting not getting a chance to, you know, remove the panties (with his teeth. Maybe) and touch but there would be a certain amount of happiness because he’d seen this. Derek drank his coffee then set the mug on the side.

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Black?”


End file.
